


Only The Beginning

by BasilGrey



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Cass sleeps a lot, Cassandr-augh, Character Study, Eugene is the only human living in the mansion so he runs errands and gets groceries, F/M, Friends to Friends With Varying Degrees of Potential Feelings, Friendship, Gen, Lance is hilarious in every universe, Let this poor kid sleep, Old Fic, Paranormal Bonding, Rapunzel tries to bake their daily dose into cookies so it doesn't taste as bad, Some Graphic Depictions of... uh; being a zombie who's kind of falling apart, Vamparian AU, Vamparian has a flair for the dramatic, Vampunzel and Vamparian gave each other those nicknames, Varian's trying hard not to be worried, Written for Day 23 of Vari Casstober 2019: Zombie Apocalypse, blood tastes AWFUL, did I mention Vamparian is still hemophobic?, for that matter so does mad scientist/self-appointed nutritionist Eugene, it doesn't really work, it's all really G except for what it's like to live(?) like they do, it's very convenient for a certain Mr Van Helsing, it's... inconvenient for him, liberties were taken with the prompt, mad alchemy, not much! But rated T just to be safe, oh and Andrew Van Helsing, posting it here now because hey why not, shoot I don't like rating things T, so does Andrew but we don't really care about that, something about drinking formaldehyde doesn't make you feel any more human, the Eugenius, there comes a point in every zombie's life where they start to fall apart, they have the heckin' cutest sibling dynamic, vamparian, vampunzel, with a bonus cameo by - Lanced!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasilGrey/pseuds/BasilGrey
Summary: It's annoying when you and your friends keep getting attacked by a very unwelcome vampire hunter. Doesn't Andrew Van Helsing haveanythingbetter to do?(Or, it's a little hard being a vampire or a zombie, sometimes.)
Relationships: Cassandra & Varian (Disney: Tangled), Cassandra/Varian (Disney: Tangled), Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Varian, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel, Rapunzel & Varian (Disney)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	Only The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot was originally written for Day 23 of Vari Casstober 2019! The prompt was "Zombie apocalypse". (I... don't know how that was the only prompt I ended up writing something big for? I think I planned to draw something for the autumnal fluff prompts, but never ended up doing that.) I don't think I could've stretch the prompt further if I tried—this somehow ended up being more Haunted Mansion Fluff Fam than anything. And it got _looong_. I really need to practice not chasing every stray thought with multiple lengthy paragraphs. XD It was still super fun to write, though!
> 
> Characters and setting are based on Kait and Tom's Vamparian-vs.-Andrew Van Helsing shenanigans in one of their sketch battles on Twitter. All credit for this AU idea goes to them!
> 
> Normally I wouldn't write anything that had anything to do with a zombie apocalypse, but... Vamparian and Vampunzel! And the Eugenius! And Lanced and Cassandr-augh! Them being pals to fight vampire-hunter Andrew is lots of fun. (Personal side note because my conscience is bugging me: I don't really condone Halloween monsters, and to be honest, I'm not entirely sure about this oneshot, even though I wrote it. I do like exploring what life would be like for an otherwise normal person who happens to be turned into an unusual creature, but I'm not sure if that's exactly... okay? Most Halloween-associated monsters have very creepy origins. A little word of warning, I guess. Nonetheless, I did have fun writing it, and I hope you enjoy! <3)
> 
> I normally wouldn't write anything I'd need to rate T, either, but there are some allusions to/mentions of blood and of potential/past injury, ~~and there's Cass who's sort of falling apart in a more physical sense~~ , if that's a concern for anyone. I'd call it a really light T? Everything else is very G-rated.
> 
> This was written a year ago in a big hurry for the event, so please excuse any messy writing or loose threads! This has been sitting around in my drafts for an entire year, so I don't really have a good excuse for not polishing it up more other than ~~laziness~~ busyness. I wanted to post it here before October was over, though! (It's the end of October already?? Where did this year go?? Who took it??) 
> 
> (Also, I'll be updating some of my certain other fics shortly, if anyone's still wondering! Sorry for the wait—it's been a crazy couple months. Hope all is well with you guys!)
> 
> Enjoy! <3

_"The world seems full of good men, even if there are monsters in it."_

-Bram Stoker, _Dracula_  
  


—

It was an annoyingly common occurrence, when a sleeping Vamparian would hear footsteps tiptoeing across the floor toward him.

His nose crinkled, and his ear twitched, and he opened his eyes to see a very close vampire hunter with a mallet and stake aimed at his chest.

As usual, Andrew Van Helsing leered at him in a way that was full of fake politeness, looking annoyingly well-groomed as always.

"I believe someone ordered a _stake?_ " Andrew asked in an obviously fake English accent, raising his eyebrows as he drew back the mallet to make the strike.

Vamparian, thoroughly annoyed by now, took a small step to the left. And as usual, Ruddiger flew in and attacked Andrew's face.

"Oh my _gosh_ ," Vamparian complained, throwing his arms to the sides in exasperation. "You are trespassing in a privately-owned crypt! Again! Don't you have _anything_ better to do?"

It was almost amusing, from his upside-down vantage point, to see an otherwise suave vampire hunter flailing and trying to ward off a bat-winged raccoon.

 _Almost_. After what felt like the seventy-eighth time, it was mostly just annoying. He somehow suspected that Andrew did not have anything better to do.

Well... Vamparian could at least play his part.

" _All hope abandon, ye who enter here!_ " he boomed—or tried to boom; he wasn't exactly great at booming. Living in an old castle for decades upon decades meant one had a lot of time to amass a library of classic quotations—but it also meant one didn't talk _that_ much.

Andrew had managed to toss Ruddiger off, and now merely _tsk_ 'ed at the vampire raccoon, holding out the wooden crucifix from his necklace to deter any further attacks.

Vamparian hesitated for a brief moment—but when Ruddiger chittered angrily, looking like he was about to try again, Vamparian held up a hand to signal his pet to stop.

"Okay, okay," he relented, shaking his head subtly at Ruddiger. At Andrew, too, for that matter. "Don't _cross_ him."

Andrew shot him a less than impressed expression, but Vamparian just shrugged slightly. When a bored person reached a certain level of literacy, wordplay came naturally. Drama did too, as it turned out—but at some point, it was hard not to wish for _some_ degree of normalcy. Was a normal week _without_ multiple attempts on your life really too much to ask for?

He dropped the accent, glaring at Andrew in exasperation. "Okay, but seriously. It's the _middle of the afternoon._ On... what, Tuesday? Don't you have an _actual_ job? Why are you even here?"

Andrew shrugged, smiling a little in that way that just screamed _I am so up to something and this smile is incredibly insincere! Also I have way too much confidence in how I look! It's really unnatural!_

"Well, I was in town, and I just thought my old _friend_ might like to see something I picked up a few days ago," Andrew replied with a smirk, eyes narrowing as he withdrew something from his coat.

It was a short silver dagger, one that was reflective enough to shine even in the dim light of the few candles on the walls of the room. A rather knotted-up feeling settled in Vamparian's stomach at the sight.

It was already pure-looking silver; did it have to be so _sharp_ and reflective? He'd even have to keep Andrew away from windows with that thing. Reflected sunlight off of something polished that well would burn for sure. He really needed to finish creating a coating for the windows that wouldn't let the harmful qualities of sunlight in.

"It's a beautiful work of craftsmanship, don't you think?" Andrew asked, voice conversational, as he twirled it in his fingers and mimed stabbing at something from a few different angles. "I was told it'd work _perfectly_ for what I had in mind."

Vamparian, having heard a remarkably similar speech every single time Andrew showed up, was almost more annoyed than he was phased at this point. Subtly, he gestured for Ruddiger to head out into the hall.

"Be that word our sign of parting!" he shrieked, upstarting. Usually, glaring out of the darkness and using his cape for dramatic flair made people stay back at least a _little_ bit. "Get thee back into the tempest and the night's Plutonian shore!"

Andrew just smirked, because _geez_ , _was the guy so annoying he couldn't even respect poetry?_ "Funny, I was just about to say the same to you."

Vamparian just glared at him, unimpressed. "No you weren't," he muttered, because if Andrew actually became literate enough to read _books_ , the world would probably explode. He held the edge of his cape along one arm and brandished it threateningly at the man. "Now begone! Leave me be!"

Andrew's answer was to stalk ominously toward him, smirking as he raised the dagger. "Oh, of course," he agreed pleasantly. "This will _only_ take a minute."

Vamparian glared and shielded most of his face with his cape. Lining it with lead filament had not only given his cape an excellent resistance against sunlight—it made for decent protection against other dangers, too.

"It ends here," Andrew said in a voice that finally sounded dark and annoyed. His fist clenched around the spiraled hilt of the dagger, and in one swift motion, he made to stab it around the edge of the cape and into Vamparian's chest.

It was strange how often a so-called vampire hunter forgot that vampires had supernatural speed. Vamparian was standing in the furthest dark corner of the ceiling in a split second, his cape billowing from the motion.

" _Not so!"_ Vamparian retorted, voice rising and then falling. At least vampire hunters showing up gave him a great chance to practice his dramatic vampire voice. Andrew didn't seem to care when he tried to talk things out normally. "Alas! Not so."

Andrew, narrowing his eyes and lowering the dagger, shot him an unimpressed look. "And would you quit with the fake accent?"

" _NEVAH!_ " Vamparian shouted in said accent, which was not fake, just acquired. _Imitated_ , possibly, because all good and important vampires had heavy Eastern European accents, but not _fake_.

With that, he vanished into a cloud of dark smoke and bat wings, and flew in a rapid zigzag down the hall.

"Fly," whispered Andrew suavely to no one, probably just for dramatic effect. "See how far you get."

All Varian's enhanced bat-hearing picked up was the fact that Andrew wasn't that great at dramatic effect.

—

Unfortunately, Vamparian was probably not the best person to try to take on a vampire hunter by himself. He might have finally been getting close to Andrew's height, but he had never been great at combat in close quarters— _no,_ not _because he was clumsy; his reflexes just weren't that fine-tuned for fighting_ —particularly against someone with a ridiculous amount of supplies meant specifically for injuring or otherwise inconveniencing him. He was pretty sure Andrew had stuffed his pockets with garlic and sesame seeds. The guy smelled like a bagel.

Fortunately, there was _one_ normal human living in the mansion, and a normal human always had a fairly good chance of being able to face down a vampire hunter.

"Eugene!" Vamparian called, rushing into the stately laboratory with a whoosh of his cape. "Eugene, I, uh, kinda need some help here—"

Eugene, in his long white lab coat and goggles as usual, was bent over a desk crowded with flasks of questionable substances. He twisted around in his ornate chair to face the vampire who actually owned said laboratory and flasks.

"That's the _EUGENIUS_ to you!" Eugene said in a dramatic voice, a wild grin on his face and his eyes invisible under his green-tinted goggles. His grin fell and he looked at Vamparian in annoyance. " _C'mon_ , kid. Didn't we talk about this?"

Okay, so maybe there weren't any _normal_ humans in the mansion. But a living human in its natural state was pretty immune to most things, and hopefully that would be good enough.

Vamparian sighed. "Sorry. _Eugenius_ ," he corrected himself, taking a moment to feel mildly annoyed. "We've got a problem. ...Again."

Eugene's eyebrows furrowed, lowering to just above his goggles. " _The_ problem?"

Vamparian frowned, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Yeah, _the_ problem. Do we have any other problems that would warrant an 'again'?"

Eugene raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, nodding at this as he rubbed his chin. Vamparian took this time to step into a particularly dark corner of the lab, by the towering bookshelves. It was mid-afternoon, apparently, and Eugene had the windows open to light up his workspace.

"Oh!" Eugene seemed to notice how Vamparian blinked at the light, so he quickly stood up and drew the curtains. "Pardon the well-lit room. Welcome to a slightly dimmer version of the Lab."

"Thanks," Vamparian muttered, though he still stayed in the shadows. He half-expected Andrew to appear out of nowhere, wielding scissors to cut down the curtains with—it wouldn't be the first time. Could he even make it down the halls to where the crypt was without passing a window? Probably not. Maybe it'd be better for Eugene to go down there. "Could you—Could you wake up the others? I think we're gonna need some more, ah, serious help this time."

Eugene, who was talented and fun but had never been what Vamparian would call consistently helpful, raised his eyebrows and seemed to roll his eyes upward, arms folded.

"Kid, it's _your_ house, and everybody downstairs is _your_ houseguest. I just do errands and get groceries and cackle at microscopes. Wasn't that our deal?"

"C'mon, _Eugene_..."

"Eugenius."

Vamparian sighed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to keep his patience. "Eugenius..."

Eugene, seemingly satisfied, relented, nodding as he considered a plan. "Okay, look—here's what I'll do. _I_ can whip up some sleeping powder; I've got the ingredients here somewhere. And _you_ can wake up Blondie and have her fly up here; my transom's always open." He glanced at a corked flask and seemed to roll his eyes, pushing it to the side of the desk. "And tell _Cassan_ dr-augh to come get her methanal; it's still sitting here."

It was probably still sitting there because Cassandra didn't _like_ the taste of formaldehyde; but he didn't like taking a shot glass of blood every day either, yet he kind of needed it.

"You... sure you can make a sleeping powder that fast?" Vamparian asked, uncertainty leaking into his voice. "We kinda need it ASAP."

"Kid, please. This is me we're talking about! When I'm finished, we'll have a sleeping powder fit for an annoying guy you don't want to talk to for at _least_ sixteen hours!" A thoughtful look crossed Eugene's face, and he rubbed his goatee. "Or eighteen hours. Do you think I could get away with eighteen?"

Part of Vamparian wanted to get into a more in-depth discussion of the chemicals involved here, but he _really_ didn't have that much time. He shrugged helplessly. "It depends on what you're using?" he offered. "Just don't... like, actually..."

"I won't," assured Eugene, holding up his hands in defense. "The guy will have a headache I _would not_ envy; nothing more, and nothing less." The man pushed his goggles up on his forehead and gave Varian a disapproving look. "But you really need to get that memory-erasing chemical perfected. As tempting as it is to give him a glass of green liquid that'll just explode in his hand."

"I know, I know," muttered Vamparian, grimacing and rubbing the bridge of his nose. To be honest, working with a substance that had an extreme tendency to explode in _his_ face wasn't something he particularly looked forward to, either. "I'll work on it tonight. Or tomorrow night."

Maybe tomorrow night, the way this day had been going. He was used to running on very little sleep, but pulling an all-dayer, as Rapunzel called them, wasn't great for his focus.

Hopefully, they'd get this _all_ sorted out so they could just take it easy for a night.

That couldn't be so hard, right?

—

He _may_ have stretched the truth earlier. Sure, his bedroom was walled with grey stone, and was always cold and dark and quiet—and the old golden chandelier and vanity that never showed his reflection completed the eerie 'look'—but it wasn't the mansion's _real_ crypt.

 _That_ was under a hidden trapdoor, down a narrow flight of stairs, and through a hidden tunnel in the root cellar. (Maybe 'hidden' was subjective–it had a burlap sack hanging over the door. But it didn't look like a doorway, and that was good enough for him.) The tunnel was arched at the ceiling, which wasn't much higher than his head these days. The passage was narrow and cold but well-worn, the floor smooth and dry from daily trips through it.

The tunnel led down into the real basement—an underground hall for the castle. Grey stone blocks, massive ones, formed the walls. The ceiling was even vaulted in places, with polished pillars supporting the arches overhead.

The _crypt_ , however, was behind an ominous wood-and-iron door, tucked safely away in a dark dead end of the room.

Vamparian grimaced as he pushed open the heavy door with his shoulder, hoping it wouldn't creak.

 _cREAAAAAAAK_ —

Of course, it _did_ creak, because what ominous old door _didn't_ screech and groan loudly when you were specifically trying to be quiet.

_Note to self, get down here and completely re-oil the hinges._

_Or—maybe not_. That _did_ work as a pretty foolproof intruder warning.

There was very little light down here, and the oil lanterns that hung along the walls were only there at Rapunzel's request. The lanterns flickered at the draft he let in, and then flared up, illuminating the cavelike room in six circles of wavering orange light.

 _Let's see_... he thought, glancing down the rows of coffins on the walls. In hindsight, it was odd that anyone ever thought to stand them upright—but it served as a warning that whatever was inside could stand upright, too. _Me, Rapunzel, Cassandra, empty, empty, empty_... They had several empty ones, just for decoration. Or for guest beds. The room just didn't look right without extras to balance out the look.

The rectangular stone tombs that were lying horizontally were reserved for the people who, uh, didn't _physically_ get up anymore. Atop the stone slabs were statues of those buried there—Lance's being the most prominent one, with his extravagant statue of himself lying on his back with a spear clutched to his chest, like you would usually see portrayed by the kings of old.

Lance's ghost had a _hilarious_ history of jumpscaring him whenever Vamparian tried to wake him up, however, so Vamparian skirted around the stone tomb and tentatively went up to the only open coffin along the wall.

Varian peered in at the young woman resting there, a little sheepishly. She _did_ need to get out of here, though—Andrew had somehow found this crypt a few incursions back, and although he hopefully wouldn't end up down here again, there was no telling what he'd try if he found another vampire down here.

"Hey, um—Rapunzel?"

Rapunzel stood leaning back against the back of her coffin, arms folded over her chest and eyes closed serenely. Her coffin was almost always open—Eugene had tampered with the lock so she could never be shut in. She liked the open air, and she liked visiting with people—and after all that had happened, she did not like the idea of being closed up. She was too fond of her friends and adventures for that.

There was no response, so Vamparian hesitantly tapped her on the shoulder a few quick times. "Sorry; good morning? Kind of got an emergency here."

Slowly, Rapunzel's eyes flickered open. She blinked as the fog began to clear from her gaze, and after a moment, she focused upward to meet his gaze in surprise.

"Varian?" she asked, clearly a little surprised to see him.

Her golden hair was thin and pale, braided together with a dozen dried daisy chains. It was dusty down here in the crypt, and years of sleeping in a usually-open casket had rendered her hair a dull wheaten color. It was for the better, though—the sight still made his eyes smart. It must hurt her at least a little, he figured, to have sun-based powers rooted in her head.

Vamparian smiled sheepishly and gave a little wave.

" _Vampunzel_ ," he greeted grandly, backing up and giving a small bow. Rapunzel, still blinking the sleepiness out of her eyes and rolling her shoulders to stretch her muscles, returned the smile with a warm one of her own.

"Oh, right. _Vamparian_ ," she greeted with a silly little imitation of his bow, giggling at the nicknames. They'd figured that since they had a Eugenius and a Cassandr-augh, and Lance had been, well, _Lanced_ , it was only fair that they had fun titles too.

Varian chuckled, grinning and stepping out of her way as she hopped out to join him.

" _The_ _Eugenius_ requests your presence in the laboratory," he announced, with a fake English accent and puffed-out chest at the word _laboratory_. Just as quickly, his awkward smile fell, and he met her gaze with a reluctant seriousness. "Andrew got in again, and he has a bunch of... dangerous stuff. Eugene wanted you to fly up there and go in through the transom if you can. He's working on a plan to get our, uh, _visitor_ to leave."

Rapunzel's smile fell at this as well, and an odd solemnness came over her red eyes.

It... didn't look _right_ on her, when that happened. His own irises were light crimson, a _bright_ light crimson, but hers were a warm brownish-ruby that almost reminded him of a mossy green. They lost their light when she looked serious and sad, and a grey-eyed Rapunzel looked _so_ tired and pale and small.

It was weird, because she was such a bright person. He'd have to keep looking for a cure for vampirism. A cure might not work on him, granted—but Rapunzel had two small scabs on her neck, and the condition wasn't natural to her body. It could be possible—he just had to keep up his research.

Rapunzel dipped her head with a sad smile, letting out a soft sigh. "Okay," she agreed, glancing back up at him and trying to smile. "I'll go see if I can help. Do you know where Andrew is now?"

Vamparian blinked. "Um... that's actually a very good question. I... left him with Ruddiger? He's good at leading people into the traps."

—

Meanwhile, in the maze of hallways and ornate rooms that filled the first floor, Andrew stealthily followed the _flutter-patter-chitter_ of a bat-winged raccoon as it kept scurrying around corners.

The raccoon _looked_ like it was in a frantic hurry. It scampered down the halls and into rooms, shaking its ringed tail behind it, seemingly in fear.

As Andrew carefully stepped over a third nearly-invisible tripwire, he decided that he knew better.

As he traversed the trap-riddled hall—honestly, whoever had set these traps must have done so in the dark; could you _be_ more obvious about which rug had a false tile under it?—he hummed to himself, a soft lullaby.

He passed in front of a familiar doorway—an ornate one that led toward a large guest hall adjacent to the foyer.

A guest hall with a trapdoor in it—a trapdoor to a certain crypt.

Andrew smirked and detoured from following the raccoon, heading down the hallway toward a place that would be more... _beneficial_ to his reason for being here.

Somewhere behind him came the unmistakable chitter of an uncertain raccoon that was coming back to find where its pursuer went. After that, there came the equally unmistakable—and quite satisfying—splurch of a goop trap, and the alarmed, angry chattering of a raccoon that could no longer move.

He had half a mind to go finish off the poor creature while it couldn't struggle—a raccoon with vampirism was much like one with rabies, after all; it'd pay to eliminate that animal before it bit him one of these days. Its front teeth were odd and misshapen like its owner's were, but that didn't mean it was missing all of its canine teeth.

But there was a soft creak from the guest hall ahead of him, like that of a small door being opened, and he quietly stalked forward to check that out first.

—

"Cassandra! Cassie! Are you down here?"

It was a long-known fact that Cassandra did not like sleeping in her coffin. Mostly because it was in the same crypt as everyone else's was—it was like a permanent sleepover party with that crowd, and she'd expressed multiple times that she was _not_ one for sleepovers. Varian only had one actual crypt, but there was a nice dark room in the far back of the basement that certainly felt like one, so he'd tried to surprise her by setting up a bedroom there.

And it _was_ a bedroom. Not a crypt with a cushioned casket. Varian couldn't quite understand what the general fascination was with using coffins as beds, so he'd deconstructed a wrought-iron guest bed and brought it down here. The room never smelled the greatest, but it wasn't like it was _her_ fault she was in the slow process of decaying, so Varian paid it no mind as he knocked lightly on the wooden door.

"Cassie?" he asked again, both of his pointed ears perked up toward the door.

"I'm _asleep_ ," came a muffled, grumbling voice, along with the faint sound of blankets being pulled over someone's head.

Varian hesitated for a moment. He'd been... a _little_ worried about her, lately. She generally stayed down here these days, mostly sleeping during the daylight hours. Which, to be fair, was what they _all_ did—but Cass usually only came upstairs in the darkest hours of the night. Just for long enough to alleviate any worries that most of the gang might've had—and then she was back down here to sleep again.

Sleeping didn't help her heal. She probably just didn't want to put any more wear and tear on her body than necessary. She was already bandaged back together in a lot of spots, and that fact alone made Varian have second thoughts about asking.

"Yeah, well, uh, _very_ sorry to wake you, milady," he said through the door, briefly rocking up on his toes. "I just—well, actually, we _probably_ have it under control, but—I mean, if you wanted to come upstairs, uh—"

He could feel the unimpressed aura radiating off of her, even through the door. He scrunched his eyes shut and bit his lip as he sank back onto his heels. _Rambling again—right. Sorry._

"—Well, Andrew's here. And... yeah! He's here if you want to come punch him?"

There was a muffled groan. "It's _An_ drew. Again. _A_ —ren't _any_ of you people smarter than him?"

Her voice had been... stilted, as of late. Kind of catching on different syllables. Not always, of course, and not even most of the time—but it still made Varian's stomach squirm a little bit. If other parts of her were somewhat decaying, he could only assume her vocal chords might be, too.

Varian ran a hand through his bangs, feeling his odd red streak as it combed through his fingers. The streak had been a different color, once upon a time, but he couldn't quite remember exactly _what_ color.

"He's, uh, really armed with the anti-vampire stuff this time," he explained to the door. "Eugene's working on something, but if you want to come, know there is an open invitation!"

There was silence, then a muttered sigh. "I'll be up in a bit. _Don_ —'t get stabbed."

"I will try my best!" Varian replied quietly. He paused. "I... don't think he'll come down here if we're all up there, but be careful, okay? I've got Ruddiger after him."

He got a low grumble in response, so he turned on one foot and went to start back down the hallway, but paused.

"But yeah, get some rest," he said softly, with no hint of mischievousness at all, nope nope. "I'm sure you're _dead_ tired, right?"

There was a soft thud of a pillow hitting the door.

" _T_ —ake your puns to Andrew. _He_ deserves them."

Vamparian chuckled, cracking a sheepish smile. "Well, I... did tell him not to cross me? He didn't look too impressed. But you're right—wordplay is an excellent _pun-_ ishment."

A bigger pillow _flumped_ against the door, and Varian backed up, laughing softly.

"Rest in peace, milady," he bade softly, tipping the brim of an imaginary hat.

With that, he disappeared in a whirl of cape and bat wings, and headed back up the hall.

—

To Vamparian's eternal annoyance, Andrew never seemed to get caught in the many traps that had been laid around the castle.

"Well, look who hasn't left for some reason," he muttered to a smirking Andrew, who had been lounging nonchalantly on a chaise in the corner of the guest hall. "Y'know, most people are smart enough to stay _away_ from the haunted mansion?"

Andrew stood up, stretching his knuckles outward until they popped and then dusting off his trench coat. To be fair, the furniture probably was dusty—a lot of it seldom got used.

"Oh, but that's the thing, isn't it? Those _smart_ people are too afraid to come pay you a visit themselves. They'd rather hire someone else than risk _their_ lives." Andrew took a step closer, arms folded casually. A dark grin crept across his face. "That's where I come in."

Vamparian watched Andrew carefully, taking a step back in response. There was a fancy mirror over the hallway table between them—a fancy mirror with an even fancier single-fire goop trap loaded into the frame. There was one trigger in the floorboards in front of the mirror—which worked great against self-absorbed vampire hunters as long as Eugene didn't set it off first—and another trigger inside the frame of the mirror, a delicate device that used the acidic gas of garlic in the air to activate the trap.

And since Andrew still smelled like an onion bagel from _fifteen feet away_ , one of the two should work.

"I'm sure you're wondering how I know my way around so well," Andrew began conversationally.

Vamparian had not been wondering that, but he would listen to it if it meant Andrew would stay distracted and keep walking forward.

"By the way, that little raccoon of yours is in a predicament. I have to say, those traps of yours work _very_ well."

 _New note to self, go free Ruddiger when you get done here_. Having been designed as raccoon traps, the goop traps had an unfortunate tendency to spring on Ruddiger if he wasn't careful.

Vamparian took one more step backward, and Andrew took one more small step forward, in front of the mirror on the wall.

The lever under the floorboard was pushed, and there was the faint _click-clack_ of the pulleys and chains that traveled up through the wall to the launching device. The top left corner of the mirror frame popped open... and out sprung _nothing_ , except an empty metal cup on a spring.

Vamparian blinked in surprise. Just as quickly, he gritted his teeth and stomped a foot. "Oh, c— _come on_. Eugene!"

Andrew, who for once looked understandably smug about something, took a moment to glance in the mirror and adjust his cross necklace and hair. "Why do you keep mirrors around here, anyway? I'd have thought you wouldn't want the constant reminders that even a piece of _glass_ can't stand to look at your kind."

Varian glared at him. "Well, for one, Eugene uses them. A lot. And for two, they're cheap mirrors! Not all mirrors have silver backing. It's not like we just _magically_ can't see our reflections in any mirror. Do you even know how being a vampire works?"

In hindsight, that mirror fact might've been a good card to play to confuse him—if Andrew saw Vamparian's reflection in the mirror, that might have done something to throw him off for a while.

But no, Andrew just barely looked interested now, and it annoyed Vamparian. That had been a very intriguing discovery when he'd first found that out. Didn't that bit of trivia incite any surprise or curiosity? Did the daily facets of supernatural life _bore_ him?

"Oh, I think I know enough," Andrew said grimly, eyes narrowing. He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and withdrew a glass vial—an eerily large vial, one that held at least a couple tablespoons—full of a deep red liquid that made Vamparian stare, his stomach clenching.

It was— _okay_ , okay, so what if it was that? Eugene and Rapunzel usually handled obtaining the small amounts he took; it didn't look so weird added as a dinner ingredient or in a little glass. A vial made it seem like something that had been freshly extracted, or extracted a long time ago from a biological specimen and then preserved, and _oh gosh what was it even from?_ When it was drained from meat at the butcher's, it didn't look like that. This was too bright, too red, too _oxygenated_ —

Andrew smirked, holding up the vial and shaking it a bit, as if taunting him.

" _Come and get it_ ," he said in a voice dripping with fake politeness.

What was it _from?_ Andrew knew vampires didn't have to have human blood, right? That that kind of thing was horrible? It was a _bodily fluid;_ it was supposed to stay _inside_ the body where it belonged—Was he trying to use it as a _lure?_

No, wait—Andrew didn't _know_ it made him lightheaded and sick to his stomach, right? He couldn't; no one would _expect_ that from a vampire; he'd only ever passed out around his friends and he didn't _mean_ to but the thought of blood intentionally being removed from where it was supposed to be was just horrifying to think about, even when he tried to see it from a scientific standpoint—

"Oh, don't worry. It's fresh," Andrew assured him with a smirk that did not make him feel better. Andrew uncapped the little bottle and tilted it sideways, letting a drop fall into his palm. Varian's eyes nearly rolled upward as he tried to focus on anything else.

Andrew _knew_. How did he know?

"Oh, y-yeah, it's—" Vamparian caught sight of the blood again, and his eyes glazed as his voice faltered. "—uh, ha ha! ...It's... _yeaaah_..."

With an airy laugh, he fainted and slumped to the floor.

—

Honestly, for a vampire, fainting at the sight of blood couldn't be respectable. And fainting at the sight of what was actually just a small bottle of tomato purée and cherry cordial was just sad.

It was unfortunate, Andrew supposed, that a boy had been corrupted into such a creature. Or perhaps he had been born with it—pale skin and long canines and an inhuman need for blood. He wasn't sure which would be more tragic.

It was really too bad such a curse existed. But at least this curse had its failsafes, to guard others from the monsters—the warmth of the sunshine, the purity of silver, his whittled cross necklace that lent him an air of philosophical religious knowledge, a nicely-sharpened stake...

Ah, yes. They were right back where they'd started, weren't they?

Andrew smiled kindly, slowly dropping to kneel over the sprawled figure. The boy was motionless on the floor already—which was good; it meant there wouldn't be much of a scene. Some vampires turned to dust when staked, the same way they did when exposed to sunlight. Others—the more human ones; usually those that had been recently transformed—did not.

He was very curious which one this boy would be.

"Rest in pieces," Andrew said sweetly, drawing the stake from his coat and poising it just above Vamparian's chest.

He pulled out his mallet and readied it above the stake for a gentle tap.

There was a weird sensation of a presence behind him, and an irregular thunder of footsteps pounded in.

"— _RAAAUGH!"_ came a gurgling roar that definitely wasn't Vamparian's. Andrew stiffened, looking over his shoulder with wide eyes just in time to see a greenish, decaying fist flying at his nose.

It was an _extremely_ gross sensation, being punched by the undead. He would not recommend it. Not to mention, his attacker still managed to have quite a bit of muscle, if the way he went flying onto his side was any indication.

Andrew managed to partly catch himself with one arm, so on the bright side, his face was relatively undamaged. On the not incredibly bright side, there was now a glaring zombie standing protectively over the unconscious vampire on the floor, and she looked _slightly_ angry.

"Ah." Andrew, not one to be terribly phased by this, pushed himself to his feet and made a show of dusting off his coat. A touch—or punch—by a zombie would not cause any damage, as long as one disinfected the area. It was a bite one always had to watch out for. Paranormal saliva was a weirdly powerful thing.

But somehow, he doubted anyone in this castle would be anything less than repulsed by the idea of biting him. He gave his best charming smile and bowed a bit to his attacker nonetheless.

"Cassie," he greeted grandly, rising from the bow to clasp his hands behind his back. On second thought, he reached inside his coat and withdrew a handkerchief and a vial of holy water, the latter of which he dripped onto the handkerchief and used to dab at his face where she'd struck him. "I knew you'd come see me eventually."

For a somewhat rotten undead person, Cassandra still caught a bit of his admiration. She could fight quite well without losing any limbs—rare for her type—and she had managed to exist for quite some time without having lost her looks. Her hair was a bit wild and frazzled, and her face was pallid and greenish and gaunt, and her eyes were dark almost all the way through—but she still managed to glower at him quite well.

"Funny, I _fig_ —ured you'd come see me," Cassandra said dryly, though her voice wasn't much with her decaying vocal chords. All that useless shouting couldn't be good on them.

"Come to save the master of the house?" Andrew asked, tucking away his handkerchief as he raised an eyebrow. "It's really a pity you got here too late."

Cassandra's dark eyes widened just a bit at his words, and she crookedly turned to look down at the figure on the floor. Vamparian lay still, a lanky sprawl of limbs and black cape, face against the wooden floor.

Andrew shrugged at her concern, casually pulling out a pocket knife to whittle his stake with. "He was too late to save you, you were too late to save _him_ —a novel tragedy, don't you think?"

Seeing the relatively clean and unused stake, Cassandra just glowered at him.

"We've had e— _nough_ tragedy. It's time for a happy ending, d _on't_ you think?"

Cassandra immediately gave Vamparian a clumsy dig with her toe. "Varian, wake _up_."

The boy's head shot up, along with his pointer finger as he gave a helpful fact. "It's—Vamparian now, _actuallyyy_ —" he managed blearily before his head slumped to the floor again.

Looking simultaneously annoyed and relieved, Cassandra carefully folded her arms.

"You know, for a vampire hunter, you sure miss your targets a lot."

Andrew, knife and stake still in hand, smirked as he slowly began to circle the pair. "Giving you all a chance makes the game more fun, don't you think?"

Vamparian shifted and blearily sat up, blinking and pressing a hand to the side of his face. "I, uh... politely object, if that means anything."

It really didn't, but it was a nice sentiment. Cassandr-augh offered a hand to help her companion up, but he looked at it as if the idea of pulling on her arm disturbed him greatly, and scrambled up to his feet on wobbly legs.

"A vampire afraid of blood," Andrew mused in a mocking tone, still circling them both. "Strange, isn't it? I'm sure that makes life _very_ easy for you."

"Yeah! So, funny story; it—it really doesn't? I generally have enough on my plate _without_ you trying to attack me."

Vamparian rubbed his head and shrugged, glancing briefly up at the ceiling as if he wasn't that worried about the man standing a few feet away with weapons intended specifically for him.

"But y'know, Cassandra's right—you're not that great at vampire hunting? How many times have you come _back_ to get me in the last month? By means of breaking and entering and attacking us _in our own home?_ Just give up already!"

Andrew, who still had his knife and stake firmly in hand, didn't feel particularly compelled to _just give up already_. Honestly, the kid was more irksome when he talked like that than when he did his big threatening vampire speeches. Andrew's gaze hardened as he slowly tucked his pocketknife back into his coat.

"I should've taken care of you when I had the chance," he muttered, narrowing his eyes.

At this, Cassandra actually gave a small smirk.

" _I_ —know, right?" she agreed amiably. "That was a big missed- _stake_."

Oh, of all the—and now the bat-child was staring at her like he couldn't believe his ears. Vamparian grinned brightly, letting out a single, gleeful laugh.

Cassandra cocked her head a bit and grinned back at him, a small, lopsided grin that hid most of her sharp or missing teeth.

Andrew didn't wait to charge.

—

Vamparian still couldn't get the grin off his face, even when Andrew lunged at them and drew a dagger from his coat.

Andrew being mad was nothing to write home about. It happened all the time. But Cass sounding _happy?_

 _You saved me_ , would usually be his instinctive response to what she'd just done. But now, when she'd joked in the face of danger and actually _smiled_ again, all he could think was _You made a pun?_

He had to admit, it was way easier to use his superhuman speed when he was both full of adrenaline and slightly distracted. He briefly contemplated grabbing Cassandra and pulling them both out of the way—but tugging on her too sharply would probably dislocate something, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

So instead, he dove _at_ Andrew, feet-first like he was sliding onto a base. The sheer speed of it caught Andrew off-guard—and when his feet were kicked swiftly from under him, Andrew fell hard onto his stomach at Cassandra's feet. There was a metallic clatter as Cassandra kicked the dagger out of Andrew's hand.

Vamparian rolled out of the way and hopped back up ( _without_ nearly tripping on his cape; that didn't happen). Andrew pushed himself to his feet (why didn't _he_ ever trip on that long trench coat?) and glared at Cass, who was already swinging a fist at him.

There wasn't much to do when Cassandra fought, other than trying to help cover for her the best you could. Vamparian edged closer to Andrew's back as the vampire hunter dodged and exchanged punches.

Andrew was quick and nimble on his feet, but he didn't have much of an advantage without a weapon. Cassandra, on the other hand, had all the force of someone with too many dead nerve endings to feel pain—but while she had a punch that could probably knock out a horse, her motions were unpredictable and staggered.

A zombie fighting a human was a bit like a butterfly fighting a cat, if a butterfly could pose a potentially significant danger to felines. Cass's muscle control was limited, and she tended to jerk and stagger out of the way without seeming to mean to. Andrew was calculated and fast, but Cassandra kept him busy dodging and blocking punches whenever he went to fumble for a weapon in his coat.

Vamparian carefully stepped closer behind Andrew, one hand balled into a fist just in case, and the other digging through his cape's thin pockets for something that would help. _Vials of holy water neutralizers, chemicals that glowed when mixed, an apple core that he needed to get rid of_... where was his pouch of alchemical orbs?

Vamparian was distracted for all of three seconds as he glanced down to dig through another pocket in his cape. Unfortunately, that was all it took for Andrew to notice—and almost before Vamparian was aware of it happening, Andrew had spun and lunged at him, clocking him solidly in the temple with an elbow.

The room whipped downward and spun, and a stunned Vamparian stumbled to regain his footing. Somewhere behind him, he heard an angry growl, and then what sounded like the grunt of a man who'd just gotten socked in the stomach.

Vamparian ended up with his back against the wall by the doorway, his head still spinning from the impact. Cassandra getting the upper hand on Andrew was a distant blur, for a minute. It was a weird sensation, not really having blood, but still _knowing_ the side of your face should be bruised.

He was fairly invulnerable, and he would recover quickly, but—still, _ow_. Cassandra and Andrew still felt vague and detached, like a moving picture of another place. Cassandra seemed to be turning the tables, though—judging by the way Andrew was holding his cross necklace out like a weapon, backing away and just barely avoiding a barrage of punches.

Andrew, being quite possibly the worst human Vamparian had recently had the pleasure of encountering, then pulled out a bottle of holy water—and in one smooth motion, uncorked it with his teeth and threw the contents at Cassandra's face.

Only one thing saved her from being wholly blinded—the fact that Andrew was in the middle of dodging a punch that would have knocked him out, so his aim was off. Unfortunately, the holy water splattered over Cass's right fist and halfway up her arm.

"Cassandra!" Vamparian yelped, eyes wide as the water began to fizz and steam. He'd gotten holy water on his skin before—it burned worse than most acids.

Instead of recoiling in pain, Cassandra just tilted her head down to stare at her arm for a moment. A weird look crossed her face.

A wave of nausea crept up Varian's throat. He kept forgetting—she couldn't feel it. At least not well.

Cassandra actually smirked, taking advantage of the fact that Andrew had paused to watch the liquid hissing on her skin, and leaned back slightly to deliver a solid kick to his gut. Andrew went flying, even though Cass also stumbled backward and had to slam her shoulder into the wall to avoid losing her balance completely.

Vamparian hurriedly pulled out a fistful of everything in his main cape pocket—luminescents, pocket lint, apple core and all—just barely taking the time to put some of the glowing vials back while he tried to uncork his neutralizing solution.

His temple still throbbed as his body worked on rapidly knitting the muscle tissue back together, but he rushed to her side in an instant, cape billowing behind him. Cassandra, her left shoulder and temple still pressed against the wall as she recollected her balance, held out her right arm for him to see.

Vamparian poured out the neutralizing solution on her forearm and still-clenched fist, heart pounding as the liquid muted the fizzing sound of the water. Cass was brave, and could ignore almost any kind of pain—but this was exactly what she'd been trying to avoid.

"Good enough," Cassandra muttered as Andrew staggered to his feet and shot them a glare worthy of something a lot more monstrous than a human. It probably would've intimidated him if it weren't coming from a melodramatic guy with a man-bun. "Thanks."

With that, Cass took two steps out and went at it again, with such unaffected forcefulness that it left Vamparian feeling both concerned and impressed.

He was suddenly aware of a presence beside him—one with wild brown hair and green-lensed goggles still obscuring his eyes.

Eugene stood in the doorway, Rapunzel behind him and one eyebrow raised.

"Is this what the zombie apocalypse looks like?" he teased, looking pleasantly surprised. "'Cause if so, that doesn't look so bad. Lemme know when I get a turn, Cass."

"Go r— _ight_ ahead!" Cass called back, a fist hooking in from the left and finally connecting with the side of Andrew's jaw. Andrew went spinning briefly on one foot, conveniently within reach of Eugene.

However, instead of dealing any physical damage, Eugene simply withdrew a vial from the chest pocket of his white coat. He uncorked it and shook the contents at Andrew's face before the man had time to right himself, all the while maintaining a very unconcerned expression.

Andrew got his feet back under him—but his face was now covered in a light green powder. He grimaced and wrinkled his nose, pausing for a moment to rub the bridge of his nose and take a few deep breaths as he prepared to sneeze.

The sneeze didn't come. Andrew took another deep breath, maybe to trigger it—but a strange look crossed his face first.

Andrew's eyes locked onto Vamparian.

Out of desperation, Vamparian chucked the apple core at his face.

The sleeping powder kicked in, and as if the dried-up apple core that bounced off his forehead had been what knocked him out, Andrew's eyes drifted closed and he stumbled backward a few steps. He managed to cast Vamparian a brief, narrow-eyed glare before he began to slump to the floor.

Rapunzel darted out with a pillow and tossed it neatly under Andrew's head before he landed on the hardwood floor. Personally, Vamparian would've preferred it if the favor had been extended to _him_ a few minutes earlier—but Rapunzel was thoughtful toward everyone, even if she'd arrived to a fight with a frying pan holstered in her belt too.

Hesitantly, everyone crept forward to look at the figure on the floor. Andrew curled up slightly and folded his arms against his chest, looking oddly peaceful.

Cassandra was the first to roll her eyes and step away, choosing to look her arm over instead. Vamparian hurried to follow suit, trying to examine her arm for injury while both respecting her personal space and dousing his handkerchief in neutralizer so she could wrap it around her hand.

Her skin—well, it didn't look _too_ bad, though it was scaly and clearly a little raw. She accepted the handkerchief with a look of mild amusement and exasperation, stepping away to stiffly wrap it around her damaged fist.

"Kid, you gotta increase the security measures around here," Eugene said sternly, though his eyes were sympathetic. "Guys like this are _why_ you're holed up in a mansion having me run your errands for you."

Vamparian rubbed his head and cast Eugene a half-hearted glare. "Believe me, I know," he grumbled. "And I'm not a 'kid'. I'm way older than you."

Rapunzel perked up and looked at him curiously. "How old _are_ you, Varian?"

Vamparian grimaced slightly, closing one eye as he held the spot on the side of his head. It'd be fine; he'd be fine—he just needed to give it a minute. "Four hundred and sixty-eight," he answered smoothly.

Eugene snorted. "And you still look seventeen? Tell her the truth, kid."

Vamparian narrowed his eyes, idly unsure why they were having this conversation. Was having someone break into you home and try to kill you _that_ normal that you could surround it with idle chatter? "Well, first of all, I am not a kid by literally any standard. Second of all, fine; I'm a hundred-seventeen."

Eugene rolled his eyes. "He's seventy-one," he informed Rapunzel.

"I'm not that young!" protested Varian, balling his fists at his sides. His voice cracked, which probably didn't help his argument much.

Eugene just gave him a teasing grin.

"Oh, sure, sure," he agreed, shrugging as if it would be silly to suggest otherwise. "Vampires grow faster than that, kiddo."

"Research has shown that vampires undergo an extremely decelerated growth rate once they near adulthood! I am still older than all of you, and thus effectively, the boss!"

Eugene just smirked. "How old are you, Blondie?"

Rapunzel smiled, a little sheepishly. "Two hundred and eighteen! Well, two hundred _-nineteen_ in a month. But, you know, not yet."

Vamparian shot Eugene an unimpressed look. "Well, I still own the house you all live in. So I am at _least_ your landlord."

"Cass!" Rapunzel called, smiling at her friend. "How old are you? I don't think I ever asked."

Eugene, who was clearly pleased with how well his sleeping powder had turned out and was now in the mood to tease people, glanced at Cass with a grin. "Yeah, Cass! Let's hear it."

Cassandra, still fumbling slowly to tie the damp handkerchief around her hand, just snorted. "You don't ask a lady her age, weirdo."

She'd been twenty-four when she got turned, and that was a few years ago. She'd told him that, when he'd been as subtly curious to learn about her as he could be. Had she not told _them_ that?

Eugene, of course, just grinned teasingly."Of course you don't! That's why I'm asking you instead."

Cassandra, not really looking up from her hand, reached over and socked him on the shoulder. Eugene grunted in pain.

" _Well_ , you pass physical fitness for this week," Eugene announced through a grimace. "All this punching people must be good for you. Keep it up."

Behind them, a cold draft entered through the doorway. Vamparian drew his cape around him a little tighter, glancing over his shoulder to see the source.

" _Wooooo_..." said Lance spookily, wiggling his fingers and staring into space as he floated into the room. His ghostly form still had the spear sticking out of his stomach, for whatever reason, though the idea of a spear having a ghostly form at all made no sense to Vamparian.

Eugene just gave him an unimpressed look. "You kinda missed the party, buddy."

Lance immediately dropped the ghostly act, eyes widening at his friend. "There was a _party?_ And you guys didn't wake me up? C'mon; guys! You know I love parties!"

"The 'party' was just giving _thi_ s guy a piece of our mind," Cassandra replied, unimpressed. She gave Andrew a light kick with her toe. "So we took care of it. Do you have to float into _e_ very room saying 'wooo'?"

Lance, looking mildly offended, crossed his arms and looked away indignantly. "I'm a ghost. It's what we do. Do you have to charge into every fight yellin' ' _augh_ '?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes slightly, but chose to ignore that question.

"So... What are we going to do with..." Vamparian motioned vaguely at the limp figure of Andrew lying on the floor.

Eugene snapped his fingers enthusiastically. "Ah! Here's an idea—do you know what I heard ol' Xavier has these days?"

No one did know, so Eugene continued. "A mood-altering potion! And I don't know about you guys, but I think that'd make an annoying, handsomer-than-thou, self-centered coat hanger a _little_ more tolerable.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "It works for that? Great. Get _s_ —ome for yourself while you're at it."

Eugene narrowed his eyes at her, clearly unamused. "Ha _ha_ , aha ha. I'll see about picking some up for you, too."

With that, he proceeded to ignore Cass, turning to look hopefully at Rapunzel.

"Care to join me for an evening on the town, Blondie?"

Rapunzel clasped her hands together in excitement. "That sounds amazing! But—do you think it's okay? I know Xavier doesn't mind us, but it sounded like somebody hired Andrew to come here, and I don't want to... you know, make anyone uncomfortable..."

A thoughtful look crossed Eugene's face, but he just as quickly shrugged.

"Nah—everybody likes you, Rapunzel. And if they don't, they'll have to get through me, several explosions, _and_ your frying pan." Eugene folded his arms and smirked, tilting his head towards the door with a friendly smile. "You still got that sunscreen salve? We can head out now and catch some breakfast before closing time, if you like."

As Rapunzel beamed brightly and hurried off to get her sunscreen and hooded cape, Vamparian pushed down one of his gloves to check his watch. It was only five-thirty—but five-thirty in late October was plenty late enough for the sun to be low and the shadows to be long. The village streets would be sheltered from the sun by the houses. If you wanted to go to town in the daytime when everything was open, this was the time of year to do it.

"Are you gonna take our gu _est_ with you?" Cass asked Eugene, one eyebrow raised.

Eugene seemed to deflate at this, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'll... stick him in the cart and Max can take us to town. Between Xavier and the Cap, I'm sure somebody can take him. You two gonna be fine by yourselves?"

"So I'm coming?" asked Lance, his ghostly eyes widening in excitement. "Whoo! Sweet aromas of fresh autumn baked goods, here I come! Ooooh, I can show you two all my old _haunts_. Right? Hm? Hmm?"

"Yeah, you've used that one before," Eugene replied, unimpressed. "A little help getting him out?"

While the odd-looking process commenced of Lance briefly possessing an unconscious Andrew to walk him out the door like a glowing blue ragdoll, Cassandra just rolled her eyes.

"We'll be fine. Enjoy your date."

"Great, great," said Eugene, distracted as he helped Lance maneuver Andrew out the door. "You guys too!"

Vamparian blanched, though being a vampire was great because no one could probably tell, but Cass just gave a muttered sigh and called after Eugene.

"I am getting something to eat and going back to bed! I have been _u_ p since three!"

"And I've been up since six!" Eugene called over his shoulder. "In the morning! So I think you'll be fine."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes after him, but any retort she might've planned was interrupted by Rapunzel bounding down the stairs, even paler now with sunscreen and her hair concealed under her dark cape.

"All set! Are you guys coming?" she asked, reaching back to pull her hood up over her head.

Cassandra raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Don't you already have a third wheel?"

Faintly, Eugene's voice could be heard from outdoors. " _Fine, you can possess me to eat ONE piece of pie. But that is it! You get five minutes. And don't make me look weird; everyone knows you don't have to do the spooky obviously-ghost-possessed thing."_

" _Oh, but that's the funnest part!"_

Rapunzel's smile turned sheepish. "Well, if you guys come, we can make it a fall family outing! Those are always fun, right?"

Cassandra managed a thin smile in return. The gold light from the setting sun filtered in dimly through the shaded windows, casting a rusty amber glow on her tattered clothes.

"I'm _ti_ red, Raps. Maybe family outing next week."

Had Rapunzel seen what had happened to Cassandra's hand? She must not have. Rapunzel was usually the one to stay close and fuss over injuries, much to Cass's chagrin.

Rapunzel's smile fell a little bit, but she quickly pushed it back up. "Oh... okay! Well... have a nice rest. There's food in the icebox, or you can make something, or we'll bring back leftovers if you guys can wait that long—"

"We'll be fine," interrupted Cassandra evenly. "Thanks."

"Leftovers would be great!" Vamparian added. Rapunzel gave him two quick thumbs up.

"See you guys! Have fun!" Rapunzel paused just long enough to swoosh her cape out behind her and do a dramatic bow, putting on her version of a serious vampire voice. " _Cassandr-augh_ , _Vamparian_."

Cassandra just smiled briefly, though Varian never missed a chance to act his part. He put a hand to his chest and bowed deeply in return.

"Farewell from my house! Exit freely, and bring back something of the food that you get."

Rapunzel waved and headed outside to join the others.

The door swung closed behind her, and the mansion felt large and cold and empty once more.

—

It was evening now, and the sun had just disappeared over the horizon.

The sky was still fairly lit up in gradients of orange and violet and blue—but while reflected light from the atmosphere did make his eyes sting a little, it was one of the few times he could sit in the mansion's little breakfast nook, with its huge windows that were angled to let in lots of sunlight, and look out at the lit-up countryside.

It made him squint and shuffle uncomfortably as he sat down with his ham sandwich, but there was something about being in natural light that felt remarkably _human_ , and that was always worth the minor tradeoffs.

Cassandra rummaged through the kitchen's icebox across the room, slowly and carefully. After a moment, she drew out a small pan of leftovers that still had a spoon in it. She balanced it in one arm as she backed up and closed the thick metal door.

He was still proud of that icebox. He'd designed and built it almost entirely by himself, with only a few specialty orders to Xavier, the blacksmith. Eugene still had to get ice for it from the iceman, but it worked wonders for keeping meats and fruits cold enough to stay fresh for days.

For a minute, Varian thought Cassandra would take her meal down to her room. She usually did, when she could get away without a hopeful Rapunzel asking her to join everyone at the dining table.

She did turn toward the doorway leading into the hall, but she paused, and looked over at something near him with an oddly solemn expression.

For a moment, Varian thought she might've been looking at him—her eyes were dark and cloudy, and it was hard to tell exactly where her gaze had landed.

But after a second, he realized that she was looking _past_ him, out the old glass window at the ebbing gold of the sunset.

There was something tired and wistful and wholly _resigned_ about the way she stared at the light, and it made Varian look back down at his sandwich to avert his gaze. He... felt like that too, some days.

He looked back up at her and tried to catch her attention with a small smile. "Want to come join me?"

Her head jerked down almost imperceptibly as she focused on him.

He was probably a strange sight—a sheepishly-smiling vampire sitting in a well-lit breakfast nook, eating lunch for breakfast at dinnertime. Cassandra's lips twitched upward just a bit, and she gave a half-shrug.

"If you want," she muttered under her breath, probably because that was easier on her voice.

She walked over to the little table, so Varian smiled briefly at her and took a bite of his sandwich—anything to act like he didn't notice the bit of a limp she was trying to hide. She smiled back, though it was thin and wry, and leaned against the wide doorframe opposite his seat in the booth. She turned her head slightly to look out the window, taking a small spoonful of her soup.

Except it _wasn't_ soup. That was probably why she stayed standing—so he couldn't see into the pan while she ate. Eugene knew a butcher, and the butcher generally had plenty of beef brains when it wasn't the season to sell it to the tanners for softening hides. The process of preparing it was the same, though—if you cooked them in water and kept stirring them, you'd end up with a thick, oily stew.

So maybe you _could_ call it soup.

Once, the thought had made Varian very sick to his stomach. Now... it _still_ did, but it also made him curious. Cassandra had mentioned once that beef brains were odd and bland, and the idea of trying other kinds of brains was disgusting to her. (Which was mildly comforting, after hearing so much _You've got a chance, kid; zombies like brains, right?_ teasing from Eugene.) She'd gone a couple months without any, once. Varian hadn't known enough to realize how bad that was for her—it reached the point where even Eugene, as their resident mad scientist and self-proclaimed nutritionist, had panicked a little once he saw the state of her skin and eyes. A lot of the bandaged areas she now had were the result of that incident.

Vampires needed blood, werewolves needed hearts, and zombies needed brains. It was like a gross version of _The Wizard of Oz_ , and the science behind it all mystified him. Why did they need those things? Was it because they supposedly lacked them?

Cassandra was _very_ smart, Catalina was kind and certainly had a heart, and he... well, he didn't have much blood in his circulatory system. But he had an amber fluid that seemed to work almost as well. He did feel healthier when he had Eugene's required shot glass of blood—even though _ew_ , it was horrible and tasted awful. It was a little better when Rapunzel mixed their daily doses into cookie dough or brownie batter. It was still horrible, if you stopped and thought about it—but it was a lot easier to pretend they were just eating slightly bitter brownies. Or cookies that looked like they'd been dyed red. Adding extra honey to the recipe always helped the flavor.

(They'd turned it into a baking experiment, seeing how well they could incorporate something so sharp-tasting into desserts—and so far, the verdict was that the taste of copper and iodine really ruined carrot cake. It was debatable whether the brown gravy blood turned into when cooked was still what they needed, anyhow.)

"You can sit down," Varian told her softly, scooting over sideways as if to make room. He didn't really _need_ to move; she'd be sitting on the other side of the little breakfast table—but he'd learned long ago that she spoke in more silent gestures than words.

Cassandra looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. He gave a tiny smile and tilted his head slightly, trying to stay on the line between being inviting and letting her choose.

She glanced back at her "soup", and for a moment, Varian thought she'd stay standing. But she let out a small breath that still rattled her lungs and sat down across from him, setting her pan on the table.

And... yeah. He was just going to pretend it was some viscous variety of bubblegum.

He gave her a brief, friendly smile, one she just faintly returned before turning to glance out the window.

The glow of the receding sunset cast an amber light on her face, giving her greenish-grey skin a nearly healthy color. For a fleeting moment, it was easy to imagine she was fully human—a gaunt one, with scabs and bandages all over, but a living, breathing, _healing_ human, who would be better and full of energy again within a week or two.

A human who didn't ever have to worry about what would happen if she didn't consume certain animal tissue regularly. A human who may have been mortal, but would stay unquestionably alive for many years.

He was immortal, or at least that was the current theory. His kind tended to live for centuries—the oldest vampires he'd heard of only dated back to the Dark Ages, but so far, they seemed to only die if they were killed. Most zombies went back to being dead when they were killed, from what he'd heard. What happened if one was left to walk for as long as they could? Were they immortal, too? Or would they remain conscious until their bodies fell completely apart? _Afterwards?_ Or was their consciousness the first thing to go?

It made his stomach churn, and his sandwich suddenly didn't look very appetizing. He could feel her eyes on him—he was probably showing his thoughts on his face again.

He looked up, his eyes probably clouded with concern. "Are you... doing okay? After earlier?"

Judging by the way she stiffened uncertainly at his gaze, he was definitely wearing his overthinking on his face. She looked unsure of how to reply, at first—so he waited, watching her hesitantly.

After a moment, she chuckled, glancing down and idly scraping the sides of her dish with the spoon. It was pewter, of course—none of their utensils were true silverware.

" _Y_ —ou kidding? I got to punch Andrew off his feet. I'm gr _eat_ ," she said with a bit of a lopsided smile.

Varian chuckled, dropping his gaze. The neutralizer had seemed to do the trick on her hand—it'd looked okay earlier, and Cass didn't like being worried about. But—well, it wasn't just _that_. The limp was new, and she didn't usually limp unless physically _forced_ to, and hand-to-hand combat was a recipe for getting hurt, and she was really, really good at fighting but she _knew_ her body wasn't cut out for withstanding that kind of thing—

"Sorry," he muttered softly, glancing up to give her a small smile. Rapunzel did enough worrying about that kind of thing for the both of them—and Cass had never liked other people barging in on her problems. _Still_ , though... "I just..."

Varian shrugged a bit, just at himself, and looked at her hesitantly.

"It's hard being a vampire, and I'm not... falling apart."

He ducked his head a little, lowering his voice.

"I just... want you to be doing as okay as you can be, Cassie."

There was a beat of silence, and Cassandra only stared, getting that flicker of a nearly startled expression she got sometimes—whenever she had to figure out how to react to someone caring about her. A little part of him twisted up, because he wished she didn't always look so _surprised_.

Just as quickly, the moment passed, and she shook her head.

Cassandra chuckled dryly, low in her throat, and looked down at her bowl. "I'm... f _ine_ , Varian."

Something in him broke a little, because that really couldn't be true.

_But that's okay. Just be here and don't push it. That's all you need to do._

He could admit it—usually, he was a little bit over-cautious when it came to Cass. He insisted her bedding be washed every few days, before any disease-causing microorganisms could take up residence in the blankets. Necrotic tissue bred bacteria, so he concocted as gentle of a disinfectant as he could make for her to use on her skin. It was hard, stopping the natural progression of things.

He... couldn't say he'd never wished he could embrace her, though; or thought about holding her tight to his chest and pressing his face into her hair so she'd realize she was very much cared about and not alone. ( _If she was okay with that, of course; would she be okay with that?_ Would _he_ be okay with that? Her hair was brittle and might break. Maybe he shouldn't.) About doing one of his potentially over-dramatic bows, but then taking her hand and pressing a gentle kiss to her cold knuckles. It made his stomach churn to think about it— _mostly_ from butterflies, and partly from a hesitant, guilty state of being grossed out.

He was certain he was the world's most squeamish vampire—his imagination kicked into overdrive at all the decay.

But in the end, it gave him empathy beyond what was probably exactly true, and he couldn't imagine what it would be like to be her.

"How—How's your hand?" he asked, glancing up to meet her eyes, only partly to change the subject. At one point, he hadn't been able to keep eye contact with her for longer than a second—her sclera had turned dark, and he couldn't look at them without coming to all sorts of horrifying conclusions about their medical state. But one could get used to nearly anything, and after seeing that it didn't seem to bother her at all, it didn't unsettle him so much.

Cassandra looked down at her right arm, the elbow of which was resting on the table. She must've taken off the handkerchief before she came to eat—she laid her hand palm-down so he could see her forearm better. Hopefully it really _was_ okay—he should've taken a better look at it earlier, but Cass didn't like being worried about in front of people. She appreciated the thought, he knew, but she did not appreciate looking like she needed help.

Varian leaned over a bit to examine it, head cocked in curiosity.

" _Fascinating_ ," he breathed, eyebrows raised high under his bangs. "The holy water oxidized when it came into contact with the necrotic tissue of your skin, but the neutralizing agent stopped the reaction before it was able to burn through the epidermal layer."

That skin was still a dull greyish-bluish-green color, and the reaction had turned it a bit scaly, but it was smooth and amazingly _clean_. The light from the sunset had faded considerably, and in the dim light, her whole forearm looked nearly normal again.

Gently, he rotated her hand over so he could see the underside of her wrist. In humans, most of the veins and nerves that connected to the hand ran close to the surface—in the revived folk, not much of that was left, but whatever remained _should_ still be there.

He laid his hand on hers, gently touching all the points that should've had the most nerve endings—her fingertips, her palm, the heel of her hand, her wrist.

He met her gaze with eager curiosity. "Can you feel anything?"

Cassandra's dark eyes were locked on his in something between uncertainty and surprise.

"...I g _uess_ ," she finally muttered, breaking their gaze. She drew her arm out from under his hand to fold it in front of herself at the edge of the table.

Gears turned in Vamparian's head for a moment, because Cass didn't always say what she meant. _Nothing_ came to mind, but she was too agile and aware of her motions to feel nothing at _all_.

He tilted his head slightly. "So, something, but just a little bit?" he guessed.

Cassandra stiffly looked down at her hand, where she'd rested it on the table in front of her. Experimentally, she formed a loose fist—and though her fingers twitched, and her hand didn't quite ball up the way it should have, she was still able to do it fairly well.

She lifted up her hand and flexed her fingers a few times, before forming a fist again and examining it.

Varian tilted his head, lips pursed in thought. "How about this?"

Gently, he cupped a gloved hand over her fist, against her knuckles where the water had first splattered.

To his surprise, Cassandra jolted, yanking her hand back to cradle it against her chest.

"Well, I—felt _that_ ," she replied with a short, awkward chuckle. She winced, glancing down to where her hand was pressed against her collarbone.

Varian blinked once, then twice.

"Did it hurt?" he asked—not quite incredulously, because of course raw skin like that should hurt, but at the same time quite incredulously, because it was rare that Cassandra showed any signs of having much of a sense of touch. " _I'm_ —so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No, it—" she interrupted, before pausing. "Well... I don't know. _It_ 's sore."

That was intriguing. Sore? He'd been very gentle about touching her hand—and besides, he'd seen many occasions where someone had bumped into or leaned on Cass. She'd never reacted like it hurt, or tensed up, even—she just stepped away to right her sudden loss of balance, and glared flatly at the offending source of the problem.

Varian, elbow still propped on the table, dropped his arm about halfway and held his hand open. His gloves were thick leather, but the palms were made of a piece that was soft and velvety, which worked well for handling a lot of delicate glassware. "Can you touch my hand with it? It may be less, uh, jumpy if you control what's touching you."

Very, _very_ gently, with an arm that shook slightly from the effort of fine motor control, Cassandra laid a cold hand upside-down in his.

A small jolt and the thought of _oh yeah_ went through his hand, and he suddenly realized why she might have been looking so awkward about these experiments. Fortunately, the excitement of scientific progression worked as a fairly decent butterfly net, and Varian was able to stamp out any internal flutteriness that he couldn't attribute to eagerness to solve a new scientific enigma.

Cassandra held her hand there for a moment, though her arm shook and she grimaced a bit, like she wanted to pull it away but didn't _have_ to.

 _"O_ —kay," she said slowly, jerking her hand upward and then bringing it back to her chest. "Not sore. Just... really sensitive."

 _Sensitive_ could only happen if there were working nerves there to sense things. That was—That was a _huge_ development from assuming her nerve endings had all been deadened.

The only difference... was the water and neutralizer, wasn't it?

He stared at her in excitement, because _who would've thought?_ He _never_ would've tested something so potentially dangerous on her. Holy water would usually burn and react until it turned both of their kinds charred and blackened—but maybe it was the concept of using the poison to create the cure. Science was _amazing_.

Her skin was nearly shiny, and it reminded him of the way his own hands looked when he handled rags damp with caustics without gloves. The properties of the chemicals dissolved a thin layer of callus away—leaving an oddly glossy lower epidermis layer behind.

It was still obviously caustic, but it had to be antiseptic as well. _Maybe_ —most zombie conditions were caused by infection through the skin, right? Maybe, if the skin could be cleansed deeply enough, the disease could be eliminated from the tissue and the body could begin repairing itself again. Her bodily systems couldn't be all dead; they all still _worked_ , they just couldn't fix themselves. What if the zombie contagion acted as a cell growth inhibitor? What if the inhibitor could be _removed_ or reduced and the body would go back to normal?

"Well, that is— _extremely_ fascinating," he remarked, not even attempting to keep the excited note out of his voice. He needed to keep looking for a cure for vampirism, sure—but _this?_ This was groundbreaking new territory. Had no one researched this already? "The reaction of the holy water to your skin, combined with an immediate application of the neutralizing agent seems to have resulted in an antiseptic cleansing that penetrated much deeper than almost any chemical would. The result looks similar to a mild chemical burn, but it almost seems to have... burned away some of the contagion in your arm."

Cassandra stared at him in uncertainty, so Varian continued, his voice rising a bit in excitement.

"The hypersensitivity is something I'd expect if _I_ got burned, since damaged skin often results in damaged nerve endings sending signals of pain at even a slight touch," he explained, gesturing enthusiastically with his hands. "But for you—" He cocked his head and stared at her curiously. "—You usually can't feel touch, can you?"

Tentatively, Cassandra shook her head. Even in the oncoming darkness that now blanketed the kitchen in shadows, she looked hesitant. "I mean—I can feel pressure. But... no, _n_ —ot much else."

Vamparian's gaze dropped to the table for a moment as he rubbed his chin in thought.

"Holy water _should_ technically just be water blessed by a priest," he muttered, trying to keep track of his thoughts out loud, "but I wouldn't be surprised if our friend Andrew had colloidal silver in his. I don't know that for a fact, though—that'd be something I'd need to test."

Sandwich crusts forgotten—Ruddiger would want those anyway, once he got back from foraging outside—Varian slid his plate to the edge of the table and hopped to his feet. He swung a fist enthusiastically, jabbing a finger in the air. His audience of exactly one person in an empty, black-and-white kitchen watched him uncertainly.

"I will definitely look into this! And—" His brain smacked him in reprimand with the reminder that if _he_ couldn't see color, there probably wasn't enough light for anyone else to see by. His sentence immediately changed courses. "— _I_ will go get a light on for you; sorry about that. I... uh, keep forgetting not everyone can see in the dark."

Varian whirled and headed to the kitchen drawer where the candle-lighter was kept—he grabbed it, and a tall white candle out of its holder, and squeezed the handle of the metal device to create a spark from the flint and steel at the end, lighting the candle. He slid the lighter onto the counter and hurried back to the table to light the oil lantern hanging above it.

Thanks to a network of small mirrors he'd placed around the center of the lantern, it gave off... moderately more light than a normal lantern did. It lit half the kitchen in a faint yellow glow.

Cass stirred her soup in an absentminded motion, before seeming to decide she'd finished it. Stiffly and carefully, she stood up, taking a moment to collect her dishes.

"Thanks, but—I don't know if I—w _ant_ to try that again," she said quietly, but not unkindly, as she turned to take her remaining soup back to the icebox. Belatedly, it occurred to Varian that she'd eaten it cold—next time, he'd have to light the wood stove in time for her to heat it up. "That... stuff can burn us to _a_ sh, remember?"

Varian quickly lit the double candlestick on the counter, then stuck the candle back in its holder. That was true in most cases— _but!_

"Yes!" he agreed, because that was a very good point. "It can, and usually, it _should_. That's what's kind of amazing! Holy water is harmless and even beneficial to ordinary humans; it only burns us because of... what we are. But you're so close to being human! You just had something happen; you didn't really change _species_. Maybe this could work without harming you, Cassandra. Maybe this could help fix you up!"

Cassandra didn't look as excited as he felt. She closed the door of the icebox, looking down at the floor.

"I... don't know," she said quietly.

The excitement ebbed out of Varian, and a sinking feeling replaced it. _Had_ the reaction hurt her? It'd looked horrible, maybe that wasn't all. Maybe her whole forearm still stung. Maybe they wouldn't be able to time adding the neutralizer right, and she'd end up getting hurt. Her body was already in a tentative state—she probably didn't want to upset that.

And he really, positively, _absolutely_ did not want to hurt her, so the excitement he'd felt was quickly replaced by guilt.

"If it helps you, I'm willing to look into it," he said softly, his tone dropping to something more questioning and even. He didn't _ever_ mean to sound happy about something that might hurt her. "But... if—if you don't feel comfortable with it, that's okay too. It's your choice, Cassandra."

A zombie and a vampire stood in a kitchen, just at the edge of the lantern light. Varian stared at Cass in hesitant concern, searching her eyes.

Cassandra looked down fairly quickly, and let out a chuckle.

"...Guess it wouldn't be too bad," she finally replied, looking back up at him with a small smile. "G _o_ for it, genius. It'd be a waste not to put th _at_ brain of yours to use."

Varian watched her for a moment, just to make sure she seemed okay with it. She smirked lopsidedly and narrowed her eyes at him, so he figured it was okay to grin. Cass helping him hypothesize and experiment would be—well, pretty much the greatest thing ever.

"As long as you're not _eating_ my brain, I am a-okay with that decision!" he chirped, folding his arms with a playful grin.

Cassandra snorted, walking past him to get something out of the cupboard.

"Eat _your_ brain? Eulgh. It'd probably taste like an alchemy textbook. No thanks."

She pulled out a jar of cookies—normal ones, that weren't rusty red, that were actually delicious butter cookies from the baker's—and set it on the counter, fumbling with the latch on the jelly jar lid. They were easier for her than most other lids, so Varian just watched her out of the corner of his eye and smiled patiently.

Cass grunted a little as she finally got the lid to pop open. "There. _Got_ —ta say, even _that_ would probably taste better than my blood."

Varian had no idea what zombie blood would even taste like, and he hoped he would never find out. He made a face, shaking his head rapidly. "Yeah—no, no offense, but I am _never_ biting you." He shuddered. "That sounds like one of the few things worse than fresh—y'know."

"So did you—really pass out earlier? What, are you the only vampire who can't handle blood?"

He accepted the cookie graciously, and then promptly leaned back over the counter to reach in the jar and grab more.

"I wouldn't expect _you_ to ask questions like that," he teased, smirking a little. "I mean—heh—c'mon. That's a _no-brainer_."

Cass gave him a unimpressed look that made Varian have to try very hard to keep even a mildly straight face. She slid the cookie jar out of his reach, scoffing a little as she joined him in leaning on the edge of the counter.

"Oh, _tch_. Aren't _you_ a pain in the neck."

Vamparian put a hand on his chest and grinned, showing off all four of his most prominent teeth. "Well, I certainly try."

The conversation lulled after that, as Cass stiffly relatched the jar and put it away—hopefully no one would notice a few cookies missing. They munched in silence for a minute, though Varian quickly discovered it'd be best to eat his handful of cookies over the washbasin so not to get crumbs everywhere.

He briefly wiped down his gloves, which he really should've taken off to eat, and was drying them on a dishcloth when Cass spoke up from behind him.

"Hey, uh—" her voice was quiet and serious at first, but it gained a facade of a slightly teasing tone. "— _Vamparian?"_

Varian cracked a grin. " _Ca-ssie_ ," he teased. His voice became softer and more serious. "Hey. Call me Varian."

Her eyes didn't move too easily, but she tilted her head back and let out a little tch, clearly miming rolling her eyes. "Oh—sure, Mr. 'It's _Vamp-_ arian Now'."

"Missed- _stake!_ " he threw back at her, because it was the first thing he'd had on her in ages, and it was making him laugh all over again. "You said 'missed-stake'! That was amazing! Do I get to be proud of you?"

Judging by the playful sideways glare he got, she probably wasn't going to let that happen. He tipped his chin up and grinned at her anyways, because _had everyone_ seen _that?_ Puns were great enough by themselves, but Cass making one was so downright unexpected that it was automatically perfect.

His silly smile must've worked, because Cassandra finally looked straight ahead again and laughed quietly. Her laugh was a bit of a raspy wheeze, but it made his heart swell all the same.

The laugh faded to a chuckle, which quickly trailed off. Cass dipped her head slightly.

"Really," she said, her voice very quiet now. "Thanks. _For_ —helping. With all this."

She didn't usually speak softly, but when she did, it took most of the raspiness out of her voice.

Varian smiled in the dark. She had a really pretty voice.

"Yeah, no—no problem," he replied gently. "It's... the kind of thing friends do, right?"

She stared at him for a moment, features frozen again in that fleeting look of—he wasn't sure. Uncertainty? Hesitance? Surprise?

He hoped she wasn't surprised. Someone would have to be mad not to want to be friends with her. (Or at _least_ be a mad scientist, but he digressed.)

The expression vanished, and in its place was Cassandra looking a little awkward, smiling and glancing away.

"Right..." she replied quietly, an odd tone to her voice. "Friends."

He smiled back, as gently and as earnestly as he could, because yeah, he was pretty lucky just to get to _be_ her friend.

"It got pretty dark," Cassandra remarked, turning to look out the windows of the kitchen. It was one room of the house that Varian was hesitant to board up, since they only used it at night anyways—there were tall windows in the breakfast nook, and more all along the outward-facing wall. The sky outside was a dark periwinkle-grey, slowly turning a deep navy. There were no stars out, yet, and the countryside was a vast world of shadows.

The lantern over their little table had been decorated by Rapunzel, with a stenciled orange sun in the middle of each glass panel. It gave them their own little source of golden light, and it didn't hurt them.

Suddenly feeling rather poetic, Varian affected a softer version of his grand vampire voice and glanced sideways to smile at Cass.

" _There is darkness, and there is light_ ," he quoted gallantly, before realizing just where that was going. Not that it wasn't _true_ , or at least true in his mind, but...

His smile turned sheepish, and he looked away.

" _And_... there's a lot of lights out there that most people overlook," he finished instead, meeting her gaze again with an awkward grin. "And it's easier to see them when most other things are dark."

For a moment, Cassandra just looked at him with a strange expression that made him _sure_ she knew the rest of that quotation, and it made his heart jump up in his throat.

But then, she just smirked, like everything was normal and he didn't probably look like a deer caught in the lights.

"I t— _ake_ it your literature quoting event's not _o_ ver yet?" she asked wryly. Varian blinked, then blinked again, and let out a sheepish chuckle.

Taking full advantage of this opportunity, Vamparian stood as tall as he could and pulled his cape around his face for dramatic effect. _That_ was something he was pretty good at.

"Not so!" he declared, swooshing his cape back out and trying to pretend it wasn't her smile that was making him grin. "Alas! Not so. It is only the beginning!"

—

" _There is darkness, and there is light; and you are the light, the light of all lights."_

-Bram Stoker, _Dracula_

**Author's Note:**

> Woot! Paranormal nerds are one of my favorite character types to write. (Not as much nerds who are _into_ the paranormal—though those are great!—but paranormal characters who are nerds. It's very entertaining to me. XD)
> 
> You can really tell where I realized _"wait, this doesn't have NEARLY enough Cass and Varian for the fact that I'm writing it for an event about them"_ and tried to fix that. XD I haven't actually read Dracula, either, so excuse my possible misuse of quotes that looked cool and applicable out of context. I like to think that Vamparian has probably spent some of his life going through every book he could find, including the one this AU pulls inspiration from. I know I would!
> 
> If anything looks wonky or I missed something in the formatting, feel free to let me know! I'm trying to get this posted quickly while I have internet, so I may be going through and fixing some italics and such later.
> 
> Thoughts and comments are always very welcome! Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed! <3


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